


to see the world in color

by orphan_account



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Childhood Trauma, Color Blindness, F/M, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, No Bending, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:08:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25876426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: it's taken zuko two years to finally muster up the courage to tell mai how he really feels — or rather, to tell her how he doesn't. unfortunately, brushing hands with a boy at the bookstore and having his entire worldview change in a matter of seconds wasn't on his itinerary for the day.or: zuko wants mai to be happy, even if it means giving up on ever meeting his soulmate and seeing colors.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Katara & Sokka (Avatar), Mai/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 71





	to see the world in color

**Author's Note:**

> i'm a sucker for soulmate aus as well as a sucker for zukka, so have some of both.

Zuko was sure of many things. He was sure that his uncle loved him, for Iroh had gone through hell and back to get the court to agree to giving him custody. He was sure that he would never get through a school year without failing chemistry. 

But no matter what, he could never figure out why he couldn’t bring himself to break up with Mai. He knew she wasn’t his soulmate, because his world hadn’t changed the first time they’d touched like his mother had said it would. The problem was, what Zuko had with Mai was different.

Mai had fallen onto him when they were younger. The first thing she’d said was _ Can you see it too? _

And that was the day that Zuko said the one word he regretted most —  _ yes _ .

Since that day, he’d done countless research on what different colors looked like so he could keep up with Mai. Zuko didn’t love Mai the way she loved him — the way she’d  _ told _ him she loved him — but he loved her enough that he couldn’t muster up the courage to tell her the truth, even after two years. 

He scrubbed a hand over his tired face as he swung his legs over the bed and started to get dressed. A feeling Zuko couldn’t quite describe weighed him down as he remembered his plan for the day. He and Mai were supposed to go on a date. . . and today was the day he’d promised himself he would finally tell her. 

Once Zuko was out the door, dressed in a turtleneck and a jacket for the cold weather, he checked his phone. The clock read 10:42 AM, Sunday, February 8th. 

He stopped himself from letting out a sigh and shoved his phone in his pocket as he walked to his car. His tiny apartment wasn’t just his — Zuko lived with his uncle, Iroh. The car was technically Iroh’s, too, but ever since Zuko had turned seventeen, he’d been allowed to drive it to school.

And the bookstore. Maybe he could pick something up quickly. . . Zuko slid into the driver’s seat and pulled out his phone again, opening his notes app and scrolling down to the list marked _to_ _read_.

It was a long list, and one he’d only ever showed to Mai, who loved to read as much as he did. The thought of her made his heart twinge. For what had to be the millionth time since they’d started dating, Zuko wished his life were simpler — wished they could start over as friends, the way he’d always wanted.

_ The Picture of Dorian Gray  _ was at the top of the list. As Zuko stared at the list, though, his eyes kept straying down to a title near the bottom:  _ The Book Thief _ . He’d been wanting to read it for a while now, but the bookstore never had it in stock. Maybe he could finally get his hands on it today.

It would serve as a nice distraction from the inevitability of Mai’s negative reaction to his news. Buying a book would comfort him — or at least distract him for a few chapters at a time.

Gently, Zuko tossed his phone into the empty passenger seat; it thudded onto the worn leather and settled there with a finality that made Zuko glare at it for no reason at all. 

He flipped down the rearview mirror and stared at his uneven gunmetal grey eyes for a moment before breaking eye contact with himself and tearing a hand through his dark hair. A split second passed where Zuko’s scar was completely uncovered, followed immediately by the familiar feeling of his bangs flopping back onto the left side of his face and covering the ugly mark that painted several shades of grey on his eye. 

_ Azula always lies _ , he told himself.  _ It’s not  _ that _ ugly.  _

_ Yes, it is, you dolt _ , replied a voice that sounded scarily like his sister, with her sharp voice and even sharper gaze that was so like their father’s.

He rubbed his eyes again, as if that would make his problems — his trauma — be washed away. Not very likely. 

But the road was smooth, and the car was silent, and it took all of Zuko’s self control not to pull over and open all the car windows to let the breeze ruffle through his hair and whisk all his aforementioned problems away, because he was  _ tired _ . He was  _ so tired _ . 

Suppressing the urge to sigh, Zuko made a right turn, retaliating to the honk of a nearby car with a loud honk of his own that he couldn’t be sure was entirely on purpose. 

The awning of Gyatso’s bookshop beckoned to him from down the street through the windshield. Zuko pulled over to the side of the road and parked as quickly as he could. The wind pierced his cheeks as he stepped out of the car; Zuko winced and pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders and hunched his back to keep himself warm on the short walk across the sidewalk to the bookstore. 

Stepping inside, away from the cold, was the biggest relief he’d had all day — the moment the door of the bookshop closed behind him, the warmth engulfed Zuko and he shivered from the upscale in temperature. 

He remembered coming here with his mother. The bookshop was a family business, owned by people that Azula and Ozai would describe as ‘peasants’ despite not even being royalty themselves. Ozai was the mayor of Caldera City, and nothing more.

If Zuko had ever been royalty, he certainly wasn’t now, not with the disgraceful names and the court cases and the cigarette burns and — he shook himself out of it. On the shelf beside him was a special edition of  _ Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland _ . . . which meant he was standing in the kids’ section. Almost like he’d sleepwalked. Zuko blew out a breath, making his hair fly forward and be pulled back by gravity seconds later. 

His mother had shown him the colors. She’d described them to him, promised him that one day he’d see them too, but with each passing day, the prospect of seeing colors became more and more bleak. Mai had what she wanted. . . shouldn’t that be enough?

Shouldn’t Zuko be happy that she was happy?

“Can I help you, sir?”

Zuko whipped around and found himself face-to-face with a teenager. Great. The boy was about his age, maybe younger, and was wearing a beanie with an arrow on it. His dark hair peeked out from the sides, and his hoodie was covered in dog hair. 

“Uh,” Zuko cleared his throat. “Yeah, actually. Do you have  _ The Book Thief,  _ by Markus Zusak?” 

The boy frowned thoughtfully, fiddling with his employee’s lanyard. “I just gave the last copy to someone, I’m really sorry.” He scratched his chin. “I can check in the back for you, though.” 

“Thanks,” Zuko mumbled as the boy walked off and disappeared behind a tall shelf.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Zuko ran a hand through his hair and glanced back at the copy of  _ Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland _ . Its cover was embellished with some sort of shiny material, and as Zuko reached out to touch it, his mind stuttered.

Soft blankets, a gentle hand, the  _ swish _ of a page turning. His mother’s soft voice. Illustrations of a purple cat, an angry queen — and then Azula interrupting them, ripping the book’s pages from the spine and laughing. Zuko pulled his hand away like he’d touched a hot stove.

“Jesus, Katara, be patient!” came a sudden voice from the other side of the shelf. “I’m trying to choose, stop pressuring me.”

“I’m not pressuring you,” replied a girl’s annoyed voice. “Dad said we could each get one book. Just pick already.” 

“Oh, but. . .” the first person sighed heavily. “This one’s been on my reading list for so long. . . but this one is the last copy! I can’t decide!”

Zuko’s eyebrows rose.  _ The last copy _ . . . he swallowed nervously. Damn his social anxiety, he was getting that book. 

Reaching up, he ran two fingers over his scar. The skin was strangely smooth but bumpy at the same time. It was, as usual, the first thing people noticed about Zuko — and the first thing he noticed when he looked in the mirror. 

But what book would he buy otherwise? He couldn’t go home after his dreaded date without a proper distraction. The boy on the other side of the shelf most likely had the book he was looking for, but taking the few steps and approaching the two siblings felt strangely nerve-wracking for some reason. What would he even say? ‘ _ Give me that book’ _ sounded downright stupid, not to mention as narcissistic and demanding as Azula was every day. 

“Hey,” said a voice behind him. Zuko turned to see the boy from earlier. “I couldn’t find  _ The Book Thief _ for you, sorry. . . but we’re expecting a new shipment of books soon. Would you like to order it from here?”

Beginning to shake his head, Zuko stuffed his hands in his pockets. “No, it’s fine —” he started, then cut himself off as he heard the conversation on the other side of the shelf abruptly stop. Seconds later, hushed whispering floated into Zuko’s earshot. He frowned and turned back to the boy. “I’ll get it somewhere else. Sorry to trouble you.” 

The boy smiled at him, assuring that it was no problem, before leaving. Taking a deep breath, Zuko blinked rapidly, assuring himself that the stinging in his eyes was from the cold air that had blown in as a customer entered the shop. Slowly, he approached the door. 

He could do this. Mai would be understanding. All Zuko had to do was be honest. 

It was ironic, really — how his daily mantra to deal with the trauma that his sister had caused him was ‘ _ Azula always lies’ _ when he himself had been lying to his  _ girlfriend _ for two whole years. 

“Just give it to him!” a voice hissed from behind Zuko. It was the girl again.

“But what if —” 

Zuko turned around. There, standing by the bookshelf he’d just been looking at, were the two siblings, looking like deer caught in headlights. For a moment, the three of them stared at each other. The girl was short, around Azula’s height, but had kind eyes and a resting nice face.

Her brother was considerably taller than her, and there was something. . . familiar about him. Like Zuko had met him before. The funny thing was, he’d never seen the boy in his life, even if Zuko would gladly spend the remainder of his days drinking up the ethereal features that this boy had — his guilelessly wide eyes, the sharp angle of his jawline, the way his lips curved slightly upward without him trying. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed when the girl cleared her throat and asked, “Do you know each other?”

“No,” Zuko said hastily at the same time the boy answered, “Yes.” 

A loud car horn outside made Zuko practically jump out of his skin and turn around to see a minivan parked outside of the bookstore. Leaning out of the window was a man who appeared in his middle-age, waving at the window — he resembled the two siblings, so he must be their father, judging by the fact that the girl had mentioned him earlier. 

“Come on, Sokka,” the girl said, and Zuko’s ears rang. 

Sokka. A nice name. 

“Um, just a sec,” Sokka said. He stepped forward and held out the book. “I was going to get this, but then I heard Aang tell you that there weren’t any copies left. . .” he shrugged. “I can get it another time.” 

“Oh,” Zuko said, glancing from Sokka’s eyes to the cover of the book. It was dark brown, and had a photo of a line of dominoes in the midst of falling. Vaguely, Zuko registered Sokka’s sister walking out and telling him he had five minutes to get to the car. 

“Here,” Sokka said encouragingly, holding out the book. “You wanted it, didn’t you?”

Zuko considered taking it, but hesitated. This stranger was just being nice. He’d wanted the book, hadn’t he? Glancing down, Zuko cocked an eyebrow when he saw the bag hanging off of Sokka’s elbow. He’d already checked out. He was leaving — his car, with his father and sister, was outside. 

“Thanks,” Zuko said for the second time that day. This was different than the first one, however, because this was tentative and soft and a hairsbreadth of a word that could only be heard if one leaned closer — which was exactly what Sokka did as he handed the book to Zuko. 

And when their hands brushed, the world bloomed. 

The shock of it nearly knocked Zuko off his feet. He stumbled back, the back of his knuckles feeling like someone had lit them on fire — but it disappeared after a split-second. 

It took him a little over ten seconds for him to register what was happening. One of the employees, a woman taller than Zuko had ever seen, rushed to pick up a stack of books that Zuko had knocked over as he fell. The woman’s hair was dark, but not black, almost like. . .

Like  _ brown _ .

Zuko looked up. Sokka was standing above him, his eyes wide. They were a light, misty color — a  _ color _ — shockingly crystalline and intense. His skin was tan, slightly freckled, and his brown hair, the color of bear’s fur, as his mother described it, was pulled back in a shaved ponytail. 

He scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could. Colors. Zuko could see them. 

Which could only mean one thing. 

This boy was —

“Sokka!” 

The boy’s sister barged into the bookshop. “Come on!” she snapped. “Gran Gran’s waiting!” 

And just like that, they were gone. 


End file.
